


Shackled in the Shadows

by apissablebed



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dream and George never met, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Author is a Clay | Dream Apologist (Video Blogging RPF), Blood and Violence, Bottom Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Bottom GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Everyone Is Gay, Gay Panic, Gay Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Insanity, M/M, Mentioned Floris | Fundy, Mentioned Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), My First Work in This Fandom, Needles, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Prison, Prison Guard GeorgeNotFound, Sleepy Cuddles, Slow Burn, Switch Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Switch GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Top Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Top GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29030466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apissablebed/pseuds/apissablebed
Summary: Wasting away in this cage encased in lava slowly has Dream losing his mind. He's lost his friends, those he considers family, and seemingly no one has decided to visit him other than some annoying, British brat. After a small episode that led to Dream lashing out in violence and frustration, Sam decided that it would be beneficial to assign Dream a guard to make sure he stays at least somewhat sane. With the introduction of this new guard, Dream is prepared for the worst, but what he's met with is a young, cute man with freckles that resemble constellations. George, a name that is somehow fitting for such a gentle-looking character, and for the first time, Dream finds himself enchanted.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 178





	1. Captive

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! My friends encouraged me to write a fic and I am happy how this turned out. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream's actions finally catch up to him and is detained in a high-security prison. His unkempt emotions are let out when he breaks his hand by punching the cell walls. A mysterious scout is sent down to monitor his behaviour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I was inspired by awesamedude's prison complex and naturally, I wrote this. Enjoy Dream's spiral into insanity!

The room was very barren, spare a chest of books, a lavatory in the corner, and the weight of regret placed on Dream’s shoulders. He could hear a rat scurry just outside the cell, then made itself visible by crawling towards his half-eaten dinner. Dream gazed up at the clock, it read 10:02, he had no idea if it was in the morning or night, as there were no windows, only a gentle light from the glowing stone placed in the corner of the room.

The warm rock walls were unchanging and unforgiving. Dream knew that he was stuck for the foreseeable future. He felt a small flicker of resentment lick his thoughts, telling him that his friends were okay with him here, they were happy he was put away. With a huff, he dismissed his growing temper. He went back to the corner and sat on his sleeping mat which he used instead of a bed as comfort was not something granted to high-class criminals.

Dream hadn’t been able to trim his hair before getting detained so it had draped around his stubbled face, worn from years spent in the sun. He looked down and rubbed his wrists which had bruises and small cuts lining them from struggling against his arrest. Sam, the big man, guard in charge, had sent scouts after him and he managed to go on the run for days, surviving the elements before getting captured. He smiled at the thrill the chase had been. Sapnap had stalked his location for hours then pounced. It had been exhilarating, Dream had his height as an advantage, but Sapnap had overpowered him with his weight and strength. Sapnap had leaped out of the brush with vigour, gleaming sword poised ready to fight.

Dream jumped up from the fire he’d been tending to with his sword in hand but promptly threw it aside as he didn’t want to have to deal with a potential fight to the death situation, especially with his best friend. They stood about three meters away, arms hovered, fists clenched, both smirking at each other. Dream advanced first causing Sapnap to jump, pushing his energy all the way down to his heels, arms out. They wrestled for what felt like an eternity, tussling, trying to gain the upper hand. Sapnap had managed to sweep Dream’s legs from under him after he tried to regain his stance, knocking him hard on his side, then took advantage and struck, grappling his wrists behind him, sitting on his back as he squirmed.

Dream mulled over the memory of his long-time friend arresting him, but he knew neither of them was fighting out of malice, so he wasn’t entirely angry. The bruises were fading into a deep purplish-blue memory underneath his blond hair arm.

Options were limited on what Dream could do to occupy himself. He went through the mental checklist of what was left to do in the day.

_I’ve washed my face and already wrote in an entry… yeah maybe I do deserve this, but c’mon. I wonder what Tommy’s up to._

He had forgotten frequently to add tally marks to the back page of his journal to keep track of the days. Time passed without him realizing it. The clock never stopped, chipping away at his time alive, bit by bit, it stole his time second by second.

Dream was tasked with keeping peaceful and nonviolent towards himself and others while serving his heavy sentence.

_Damn it, damn it all. They know they can visit. They know I’m here, yet nothing. Why? To be fair I know I’ve got my claws in Tommy’s back, so surely he’ll come by._

Sam the Clever of the Badlands was head of the patrol and tasked with keeping the prison secure. After all, he had been the one who drew up the blueprints and helped build the elaborate compound. There were multiple security checkpoints, passcodes, and constant surveillance, after all the prisoners to be kept were top-tier criminals.

_Nothing, nothing, nothing… there’s literally nothing to do. Sam should drop off some more potatoes through the chute, as he does every time the clock reads twelve, morning and night._

There was a lava moat around the cell, a good few meters down, keeping the stone walls warm, and the cold out. Sam had strenuously worked to get the lava piped in from the nearby magma pockets in the cave system. The warmth from the molten rock temporarily kept the prisoner’s mind from letting itself slip into the familiar numbness of being alone.

Dream lay on his back in the middle of the floor, sprawled out, and bored. He was given linen shorts and a cotton shirt to wear and got a new set every week. The thin clothing didn’t do much other than keep him modest, even though he was alone. As his eyes fluttered closed, he could faintly see the small blurs of colour dance across his vision.

Rats were nibbling on his linen shorts as Dream opened his eyes, they wandered to the clock that reads 4:13, unlucky numbers, he notes as he rolls over.  
Three weeks had passed, and the deviant could feel the psychological effects setting in. The distant, but constant bubbling of the lava, the inconsistent sleep, the rats gnawing on his clothing as he sleeps, and the dank warmth lending itself to the growing smell of mould would make him angry. The clock was constant, never changing. Tick. The hand drifted towards a new minute. Tick. Dream clenched his fists and felt the muscles around his spine tense, sharpening his breathing. Tick. He felt his hot breath through gritted teeth escape with an angry huff. Tick. _How could they do this to me and be okay with me rotting away here?_ Tick. _Surely, they care, don’t they?_ Tick. The pent-up rage had finally hit a breaking point, making his heart rate spike. His resentment had festered with every second that passed since he stepped foot in the cell. Tick.

Overcome by blind rage, Dream slammed his body against the solid wall, brimming with hostility he exerted any strength he could by hammering his fists into the stone. Blow, after blow, hot tears fueled by the onset of emotion spilled down his face. Thoughts raced through his head as he went, provoking all of the pain he had previously suppressed. These emotions he had concealed for so long now demanded to be felt. After one, final punch, he stopped in a sweaty mess and let out a guttural, animalistic cry. He didn’t realize that he had punched so hard his knuckles were bare flesh, spilling urgently with bright red blood. At the sight of his blood, he stepped away from the wall lightheaded and collapsed onto his knees. With his arms weak and eyes tired he slipped out of consciousness, into the first deep sleep he’d experienced in a while.

Dream was roused by the growing pain in his right hand where his fingers met the back of his palm. It was swollen and inflamed, reminiscent of the torrent of emotions felt hours before. He took note of the unusual silence as his sleepy eyes searched the wall for the clock but struggled to find it. Dream attempted to use his left hand to reach and comfort his right hand but was unable to move. Panicked by being stationary jolted him awake, he sat up violently, shaking his newfound constraints. Full of adrenaline he scanned his surroundings, clean sheets, pristine white walls, spotless light blue tile floor, and a faint smell of cleaning products made it clear he wasn’t in his cell.

There were white belts bound around his wrists, ankles, and two larger ones snaked across his chest and lower torso. His right hand was cloaked with gauze with a hard shell encasing it, whereas his left had medical tape overtop where he’d broken skin. He was strapped to a hospital bed in a relaxed upright manner, not laying down, but not sitting up. Dream was dumbfounded by the belts that clamped him to the bed, annoyed by their existence he struggled and writhed, attempting to slip out, but soon realized he was powerless. Defeated he stared at his bruised hands and flexed his fingers as if to grab an apple from a tree. He winced at the sudden sting then subsiding soreness of the wounds, then lay still again.

Quiet, but purposeful footsteps echoed in the hallway, growing louder, reminded Dream of the ticking clock as the heels of the stranger clicked against the floor. He eyed the door cautiously as the origin of the footsteps strolled in, it was Sam wearing a simple pristine white collared shirt with a stethoscope around his neck. Sam was equipped with a professional-looking coat, a clean-looking clipboard, and a syringe in his chest pocket. Sam had on his armoured mask plate, effectively covering his face. The plate itself had an emerald green, watercolour-looking, background with a haunted face brandished on top. Sam casually lifted the mask up off his face, revealing his bright stubble-ridden face.

“What’s that for?” Dream nodded towards the syringe of mysterious liquid.

“Oh this,” Sam answered, hanging his mask on a hook before taking out the needle, “is for you.”

Sam’s voice was gentle but his tone was serious like when a parent scolds a child for eating mud, it is lighthearted but a lesson that must be taught.

“Are you going to tell me what it is, or what it does? Or why I’m so heavily restrained?”

“You know exactly why,” he chided, “it was almost impressive. You managed to break your fourth and fifth metacarpals on your right hand.”

Dream blinked back at the knight, hoping for words he could easier digest.

“You broke your hand, dumbass. As for what’s in my handy dandy needle, it's going to make this process much easier.”

“Great, let’s get this over with then. I’ll look away, I can’t handle watching,” Dream added as he scrunched his face in an offended manner.

Sam produced a sterile wipe and rubbed a spot on Dream’s upper left arm, and swiftly uncapped the needle. He slid the needle in with precision and watched as the liquid drained into his veins.

“Ow! Sheesh, I could’ve used a warning.”

“Well it’s over now, it’ll kick in five to ten minutes from now,” Sam announced as capped the syringe and concealed it back into the pocket then patted the pocket twice in a playful manner.

Dream tilted his head quizzically, as he realized he had no idea what he was given.

“Is it a painkiller or an antibiotic of sorts?”

Sam chucked in response, “Not quite, but close. It's more of a sleeping draught so that we can get you back to your cell with minimal issues, plus that way you won’t know which way is out.”

“Oh, well…” Dream could feel the effects slowly taking hold. It felt as if slugs had crawled their way into his brain and started parading circles around his skull, sliming up his movements and words. He heard his blood rush in his ears, roaring as his heart raced in reaction to the draught. Dream listened as his pulse slowly ebbed into a dull throb. “I can’t feel my legs…” Dream stared at his feet as they faded in and out of focus, eventually slipping out of consciousness, into a medically induced slumber.

The last thing Dream remembered was Sam smirking at him as he felt his limbs go numb and the world around him disintegrate to black.

The comfort of the hospital bed was no longer there beneath his aching body. He tried to rouse himself awake by stretching his already strained muscles. He could hear his pulse lightly drumming in his ears. With effort, he made himself focus his hearing beyond his heartbeat, and found the familiar burble of the lava basin.

_Surely he wouldn’t actually put me back in my cell while I’m still healing..._

Finally conquering the hangover of the draught his eyes flickered open. The room was dimly lit and barren without furniture.

“What in the…” His eyes danced along the blank walls until they fell onto the bloodstain next to the clock. Upon seeing darkened red stains splashed against the wall next to the time telling device his suspicion was immediately proven true, he was back in his cell, alone.

“Well goddammit. Sam you bastard.”

The convict put his hands on his knees to support his weight as he got up to stand. Successfully on his feet, he surveyed his mundane surroundings, observing to see if anything had changed.  
As he scanned the wall behind him, a small glint caught his eye. Intrigued by the discrepancy in his environment, he couldn’t make out what it was in the faint light, so he reached his unbandaged hand out to touch the piece in the wall. It possessed the coolness of metal and rattled in response to contact. Startled by the noise, Dream jumped back, tensed. He chuckled and shook his shaggy head of hair. Upon further inspection Dream came to the conclusion it was shackles bolted into the wall. He mused at the thought that Sam would have put these here to serve as a warning as if to say, “Try that again, and I won’t hesitate to put you up there.”

“Oh, Sam, you’re funny. You think being chained up will scare me into obedience.”

Subconsciously, it did intimidate Dream. Being pinned up would prevent him from having the freedom to eat on his own, write, and exist on his terms. After all, what else would they be for?

Dream waltzed back to his sleeping mat, and settled in with a journal, ready to pen down his sentiments. Just as he wiggled into a comfy spot he heard the slight crunch of paper beneath him. He cocked his head while his face scrunched inquisitively and shimmied to see where the sound originated. It was a small note folded sloppily.

“How did I not see this?”

He used his bruised hands to unfurl the yellow paper, hunched over it like a dragon watching its treasure. Shadows danced across the small paper in the faint light making it hard to decipher. Excited by his find, he eagerly loped closer to the glowing stone. He squinted to read the scratched handwriting, and it read,

“I’ll send a scout in sometime tomorrow evening to make sure you don’t repeat past mistakes. They will explain more then. Thanks, Sam.”

Dream let out a long drawn-out sign as he bitterly crumpled the paper. His fists clenched around the page, tightly compacting it into a ball. With a grunt he hurled it out of his cell, sending it sailing towards a fiery fate to the lava below.

Dream had no idea how long it would be before the presumptive scout would visit, after all, the time had no meaning down here.

Hours had passed since Dream had found that wretched note that sealed his fate. Finally fed up, he sprawled out on his mat. His dirty golden-brown hair bounced as he reclined suddenly. While pressing his thumbs against his eyelids, he laughed at his predicament. His arms flopped to his sides and he sighed at the thought of his impending visit from a scout, of whom he may not even know. He let his eyes stay shut watching the static dance as it faded to black.

He opened his eyes to sunlight beaming down, warming his freckled face. He raised his arm to conceal his blinking eyes as they adjusted, he gazed out to get a read on his surroundings. It was a collection of grassy knolls, flowers abloom with bees floating above the blossoms. Beyond the hills was a thicket of all shades of green. Aspen and pine trees reached towards the sky while dancing in the wind. A delightful aroma drifted on the breeze and made itself known, it was freshly baked bread, more than one loaf judging by the strength of the alluring smell. Dreams eyes danced along the border of the meadow until his gaze fell upon that familiar cottage. Log support beams on the corners, cobblestone walls, a sturdy red brick slightly crooked chimney smoking, and simple windows on either side of a pinewood door, it was his previous home. That had to be where the smell was coming from, he wondered who was home baking. Overcome with a wave of nostalgia and excitement Dream took off towards the small home, laughing from his chest with glee, the feathery grass waving as he bound by.

As he got closer he recognized Wilbur and Tommy’s horses tied to a fencepost near the side of the house. Niki opened the door to welcome the guest in as Dream slowed to a walk. “Welcome home, we’ve been counting on your arrival,” Niki bubbled. Dream was three steps from the door and he could see plates and the bread set on the table neatly, Tommy, Wilbur, and Sapnap seated, chatting casually with another. Sapnap looked up at him with a goofy smile across his face as if to say, “I’ve missed you.” Two more steps and he could recognize the tilework was the same on the floor as it had been years ago. He was overjoyed to be in his friend's company once again.

One more step and he went to duck his head to avoid bumping his head on the doorframe. As his shoulders shrugged to fit into the place he once belonged the ground opened up right in front of the door, swallowing the tall blond. The field of flowers, the horses, his friends, his home, all was gone. He heard the surprised yells of his companions, screaming for him as he fell down, into darkness. Terror gripped him as he zipped through the air, hurtling towards an unknown fate. He reached out to the light where he had entered the abyss and tried to muster the strength to cry out for help, but he couldn’t produce any noise. He plummeted downward and caught a glimpse of the earth below. He slammed his eyes shut bracing himself for the inevitable impact.

Drenched with sweat, Dream shot up. He had fallen asleep and rolled into the wall, it was the impact that woke him. Veins still coursing with fright he held his head in his sweaty hands, trying to catch his breath. He shut his eyes to focus as he felt the warm air sharply fill his lungs and promptly expel itself. He remembered the breathing exercises Phil taught him while they were stuck in a cave and began to panic.

“After me, one deep breath in through the nose. Hold it for a second. And breath out while counting to five. Again, breath in… and out…”

The sudden remembrance of his old mate and his old freedoms made him emotional. Before he could reopen his eyes he heard a noise behind him, unlike any rat he’d encountered. There was something in his cell, and that threatened him. Still exceedingly on edge Dream turned on his heels and savagely leapt from the dark corner and onto the unassuming creature that had trespassed in his space. The thing yelped in surprise to be so suddenly thrown and pinned onto the ground and it dropped the torch it was carrying. Dream watched the still-lit torch slowly roll away and eventually stop. He snapped his head back to the creature beneath him, it twitched in response. It was the scout promised from earlier. The scout was much shorter and scrawnier than he expected, with short dark brown hair, light freckles, and fawn eyes. Realizing he could have hurt the man, Dream jumped backwards, embarrassed.

“What in the name of, oh for, why’d you do that?! The captain said you’d be expecting me, so what’s all this for?”

The short man went to pick up the torch, the firelight danced and illuminated his bright red face, he was scowling, clearly annoyed.

The short stranger reached his hand out with an exasperated sigh.

“The names George.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You made it to the end! Gold stars for you! But seriously thank you. I have a Twitter, it's the same @, if you want to message me your thoughts, ideas, and opinions and such. Chapter 2 is in the works and will contain more gogy


	2. Captivated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream realizes it's fun to toy with his captor's emotions, but it might get him into more trouble...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow my twitter (@apissablebed) for behind the scenes or to give me your feedback!

“The name’s George.”

Dream tilted his chin up and cautiously grasped the man’s hand and gave it a firm shake. His small hands fit into his rough ones nicely. George huffed and gave his hand a brisk handshake, still clearly annoyed. He had short soft looking hair, neatly set in place out of his eyes. His voice was modulated and honeyed, sweet but he was trying to sound large and in charge. George’s annoyance was palpable as he tossed aside a brown leather satchel with a thump. Dream glanced sideways to watch the bag hit the ground then focused back on George’s face. He admired his cheeks, still rosey with frustration, and peppered with brown freckles. 

“They sent you in here to watch out for me?” Dream remarked as he let his eyes comically wander up and down the guard’s stature. He was petite but proportionate. Dream took note of his choice of fashion, a baggy white cotton undershirt, and denim trousers with leather and chain belts. No armour, strange. His clothing was slightly damp from the sweat and warmth.

With his jaw clenched George gave him a glare that could cut, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Dream chuckled. This brunette was fiery, and it piqued the criminal's interest. Dream was entertained by the sudden passion from the newcomer.

“Let’s talk shall we?” Even though George’s attitude was sharp his deep brown eyes betrayed his mean demeanour. Dream plopped himself onto his mat and patted the ground next to him jovially, beconing the guard to join him on the floor. George strode over and took a seat next to the criminal, crossing his arms and stiffly straightened his back. Dream was entranced as he watched the shadows dance across his acquaintance’s thin scowling face. He looked somewhat familiar.

“Well, for starters this is now my space as much as yours. You cannot hold me, hostage, as I am now your means to get food. The potatoes you receive will be distributed via me, so if you kill me, you’re dead too,” George remarked smartly. “And, I know you’ve been notorious for manipulation and arson.”

“Huh, don’t threaten me with a good time,” he licked his lips and adjusted his collar, “Well, you’ve done your research, you know who I am. Nice to meet you. You’d think that they’d send someone a bit taller or-”

Dream was cut off by George pouncing forward and slamming him against the floor. George had his forearm across Dream's windpipe and his other hand right next to his head and could feel the warmth coming from him. Even though Geroge was small he knew how to gain the advantage when he struck first. Dream was awestruck by how quickly it had happened and didn’t bother to try and struggle or fight back. Dream looked up into George’s squinted eyes as he held his breath. Dream reciprocated the stare and tried to read George’s brown eyes.

He saw there was some sort of insecurity or pain cloaked by anger, he recognized it because he shared the dilemma. George’s gaze shifted as he inspected Dream’s face, studying every movement, trying to detect any sign of rebellion or struggle.

Dream watched George’s brown eyes study him and he realized how close they were. He could feel the warmth from Georges’ feisty body, pressed against his. He considered that he could lean forward and touch his nose against his, so he did. Dream leaned the slightest bit forward, despite the arm pressed on his windpipe. It was a gentle touch, quick and innocent.

A brilliant red began to creep across George’s face staring at his ears, snaking itself and settling deeply into his cheeks. Dream was captivated by the growing burning colour in George’s cheeks. 

_I want to know what makes you tick. Where’s this explosive angst coming from? I wonder how long it’ll take for you to open up to me._

George immediately let go when he felt warmth rising in his face. Upon release from his newfound superior Dream rolled forward onto his hands and knees as he gasped for breath. Even though he loved every moment of it, he cursed at himself without a sound for letting himself get pinned so easily. His shoulders sagged in defeat as it dawned on him how weak he’d become from weeks in the dark, malnourished. 

“Sorry-” George began, but Dream was not going to allow it. He was given fuel to stake at the fire between them. His brain was alight with mischief.

“No, it’s all good, I didn’t think I was your type, but-” Dream playfully began.

“Oh shut up you,” George cut him off by angrily shoving him, trying not to smile, but was atrocious at concealing his emotions. 

Dream rubbed his throat where George’s hand had been, a strange euphoria started rising in his chest. He was excited from the sudden aggressive physical touch. Dream was one for dealing the pain, never receiving, but it was almost welcome as he’d been alone for so long. 

“Now,” the frank guard began straightening his back again, pretending to act professional despite acting impulsively moments before, “I won’t be here all the time, as I’ll be replaced every twelve hours by another, that way…” Dream had zoned out. George was going through his instructions given to him thoroughly. As he talked, Dream watched him move his hands, it accentuated the silvery tone of George’s gentle voice. He noted that George would start his statements as bold as he could, but would drift back into a mellow, comfortable range.

Dream observed his body language start to relax and his shoulders were no longer tense as they both settled down from the tension before. His eyes wandered up from his shoulders to his face again. He had a small top lip, but a supple-looking lower lip… it looked like it would have a good texture to bite into...

“... I mean they obviously couldn’t send in Sapnap as you know him personally… Are you even listening to me?”

“Wha- oh, yeah, I am,” Dream sputtered in response, caught off guard by the sudden call out.

“Uhuh, so tell me, what's the plan after twelve hours have passed?”

“S-someone replaces you?” Dream guessed, knowing it was a shot in the dark.

“Oh, well, yes, but you looked as if you had fallen asleep with your eyes open. Stop staring at me like that.” George remarked, surprised the captive was listening to him.

“Like what,” Dream breathed out a laugh.

“I don’t know, your eyes, they are very analytical and I feel like I’m under a magnifying glass. I don’t like it,” he was not used to the sudden attention he’d been receiving. “I’m to keep watch for a while yet, so get comfy.”

“I could say the same to you, you look tense,” Dream said playfully, as he began to enjoy batting small refutes back at the guard, he was entertained that he became flustered quite easily. 

“Oh, whatever.” He rolled his eyes and turned away to stare out into the open space above the lava.

They sat in an uneasy silence for the remainder of George’s time. Thoughts were racing through George’s head as he chewed at the inside of his cheek. After he learned he was tasked with delivering the prisoner’s food and keeping watch he did all the research he could on the captive the facility had been built for him. Sam had told him that Dream was a tricky one. “Yeah that kid’s got fire in him, be careful though, he’ll befriend you and try to use you against yourself, '' he had told George.

Surely he couldn’t be that bad. He glanced back at the tall blond boy who was slumped over leaning on the wall, head back, slack-jawed and drooling in his sleep. George scoffed at the sight and faced forwards again, staring into space. He let his mind wander back to what brought him here, watching a notorious criminal.

It was a cold winter, acres of plants in neat rows were wilting and withering away. George brushed the fresh snow off the topsoil and started digging with his hands. A few centimetres down he reached the fruit of his labour, and it was charred black and very dead. The potatoes that were planted hadn’t been able to persevere the winter's treacherous freezes. He had toiled endless hours, weeding, cultivating, fertilizing, planting, and watering the plants he held dearly.

A wave of uncertainty and doubt crashed over the boy and managed to spill onto his face through his sorrowful tears. The diseased plants served as an existential reminder that he too would one day die and decay. His warm tears were slowly freezing themselves onto his pale face as he stood in fear and frustration of what to do next. Walking back to the farmhouse he considered his options, enlisting in the guards or stay and potentially starve, but a new year meant new crops to harvest and profit off of.

The cold was relentless and brutal and the wind began to pick up upon his arrival. George stepped into his hovel and stamped his snowy boots on the floor, eyes still glazed over with the shock of reality his plants had given him.

With a diminished demeanour, he stoked the dying fire and put his kettle on the hook above it to boil water. Within a few minutes, he had a bitter cup of tea. He cautiously sipped the warm concoction, still wondering about the future. He reflected on the unsuccessful harvest, the isolating life in the mountains, and his deep disappointment with his life he’d led thus far. He had moved north to cultivate relationships as well as his plants. What future did he have here? Through his frosted windows, he could see down the mountain civilizations were in the process of being built. Below he could see a town taking shape with lit street lamps and a fountain in the centre square.

With a final swig of tea, he stood up, gathered his things, and left, headed towards new beginnings.

He was snapped back into reality by Dream firmly shaking him. His face was twisted, stricken with worry, it didn’t look good on him, George noted. “Oh good, you’re up. You slumped over, man you had me worried,” Dream spoke fast with his brain picking up its uncollected thoughts as he went. “Sorry, I must’ve zoned out, what time is it,” George asked, blinking the drowsiness out of his eyes. 

“Looks like it’s uhh,” he turned his head to steal a glance at the clock, “Five twenty-eight.”

“Wait what! It’s been that long? My time is almost up.” Dream could see the whites of George’s eyes as he reached out his hand to help him to his feet. George grasped the extended hand and was swung upwards into Dream's warm chest. He heard the impact of his body echo in Dreams lungs. He felt the same crimson blood flood up to his ears and rosy his cheeks as he felt how thin Dream was. Swinging George up let Dream smell a woodsy, outdoor scent waft off of his hair and the floral soap he had used to wash with earlier that day. He allowed himself to indulge in another inhale of the fresh scent.

They were interrupted by a mechanical cacophony coming from the outside of the cell. Intrigued, Dream stepped away from George and towards the discrepancy. It was a floating platform with a humanoid figure on it. The figure was tall and slender, fully armoured, and face covered with a mask plate. It was the big man from above, Sam, on a floating platform. Dream was wide-eyed, as he slept through George’s arrival and didn’t get to see the machine that brought him here.

The platform was something out of a steampunk’s wet dream and was fueled by the harnessed power of the red stone found in mountainous caverns. It had a simple rectangular base with a long lever and gears and other machinery poking out from underneath. The gears whirred and whined to a stop before gently docking. Sam stepped off the contraption as it idled and strode towards the pair. Sam chuckled and lay his hand on George’s shoulder with such force it jerked him forward. 

“Well that wasn’t so bad, was it? I’ll give you twelve more hours to your lonesome, the next guard wasn’t quite ready. As for you,” he turned to George, “you are going to get some sleep for the next shift. Shall we?” He swung his arm towards the mechanical platform gesturing for George to follow him and led him out of the prisoner’s room and helped him up as Dream watched. Sam pulled a lever and they lurched forward, George having to balance himself. Dream watched them drift out beyond the lava fields.

He started to turn his body, eyes still on the floating craft, but before he could tear his gaze away he saw George turn and wave. Dream was taken aback by George’s small show of, was it affection, he found himself blushing. He gave a small wave back and turned promptly, he didn’t know if George could see his flustered appearance. 

Dream’s eyes surveyed the room he now had to himself. It felt almost empty without his newly made friend. He stumbled back to his sleeping corner and felt hollow. Maybe it was the absence of George or the now impending loneliness, but it bothered him. 

When George had arrived he felt as if the prison cell was homely, the atmosphere lifted and was born anew, even if they fought and then sat in silence. Hours before he was in the same corner watching the back of George's head as it stared out into the emptiness akin to what George was feeling. Dream eventually grew bored of studying the figure at the end of his cell so he let his eyes rest. 

He had dozed off without meaning to, he closed his eyes with intent to watch the familiar colourful static, as he found it oddly entertaining. He watched the particles dance themselves into all shades of colour thought possible as they slowly faded to black 

The bustle of the city filled his ears as he awoke. He was bundled into a back alleyway with food scraps and other compost. Disgusted, he rose and gingerly brushed himself off, making the nearby rats scatter. He could hear hooves rhythmically pounding on the cobblestone pavement, vendors calling out their products just around the corner, and caught a faint whiff of smoked salmon. It was the Capitol, loud and dirty, but familiar. Dream moved here after braving the wilderness in his youth. He stood on the pavement, taking in his surroundings. He wasn’t too far from Fundy’s appartement which was conveniently a floor up from a bakery, which served delectable croissants.

Dream set off down the street towards Fundy’s place, watching the townsfolk and villagers barter and make their trades. His gaze snagged on a particular vendor across the cobblestone street with white goggles perched atop his head. He had short brown hair and narrow stature with thoughtful brown eyes. Dream glanced at the traffic and trod towards the stand.

“George?” Dream was still taken aback by George operating and running a vegetable stand. 

The vendor looked up from helping a woman pick out carrots quizzically, “Do I know you?”

“It’s me, Dream! I used to live here, I had no idea that you did too!”

“I think you’ve got the wrong guy mate,” George turned to finish bagging the carrots, “Would you like me to write you a receipt? Oh, thank you, have a good day,” he smiled after her and waved as she shuffled away. He shifted his focus to the potential customer, “Can I help you with anything? I am quite good with fresh produce-”

George was cut off by Dream slamming his hands on the produce stand, shaking the products, making George jump, and a few villagers stopped to look on at the disturbance.

“Damn it, man, we met…” How long had he known him? His brain was struggling to piece together a conceivable timeline of what was taking place. “I think you’re my… guard?”

George’s friendly demeanour crumbled giving way to visible frustration turning his face a familiar intense shade of red, but it was born out of anger, not subtle flirtations. George reached forward, grabbing the collar of his shirt and twisting it in his hand to get a firm grip. He yanked Dream’s head down so aggressively that the underneath of his neck was outstretched and his head was level with George’s. He licked his lips and whispered haughtily, “Look, you’re making a scene, I don’t know who you are or what your game is, I am a shopkeeper, not a guard, now scram.” And with a final huff, he pushed Dream away and into the busying street. He hated to admit it, but that was hot.

Dream’s head was spinning as he tried to sort out what had just taken place. How did he get here? He recalls waking up by a compost bin in an alleyway… but how’d he get there? His thoughts were interrupted as he heard hooves hammering on the pavement getting louder. His head snapped to his left to see a quarter horse barreling towards him. Instinctually he threw his hands in front of his head to protect himself from the impact. He could hear the heavy breathing of the horse, but moments away from death, he gained consciousness from his dream, turned nightmare and sat up violently, body convulsing with a silent gasp.

He frantically patted his body down with his sore hands double checking he was still in one piece and once given the confirmation that he was okay he remembered George. 

George! He searched the room and saw him sitting with his legs crossed with his head leaning on his arm propped up on one knee. Dream let out a long and silent sigh knowing George was here, real, and okay. He watched as the guard pondered his place in the world. Dream extended his arm out to grab the journal beside him. He flipped through until he found a blank page and started sketching George. He studied how his small body was propped up in a relaxed manner. Scribbling away for half an hour he produced an image of the guard sitting bunched up at the end of his cell. He closed the book and gently set it down beside him as he hypothesized about what kind of scout he would encounter next.

Just as Dream was going to close his eyes again George slumped over with a muffled bump. He laughed thinking George was aware of his gaze and was goofing off, but George didn’t get back up. Dream figured he fell asleep. Was that allowed? Dream didn’t know but he found it adorable.

“Hey pretty boy, very funny c’mon get up,” Dream felt a twinge of nervousness, what if he wasn’t faking it?

No response. “Okay, jokes over, get up,” he repeated, words tainted with anxiety. He cautiously stood, eyes fixed on the man on the ground. Upon observing him he panicked, surely he had to stay awake while watching him. He ran to his side holding his hand underneath his freckled nose to check to see if he was breathing.

He grasped his shoulders as gently as he could and shook his feeble form, trying desperately to wake him, but not hurt him. If Sam had come back with George unconscious there would be severe repercussions and consequences. George blinked cautiously as he heard Dream worriedly rambling, “Oh good, you’re up. You blacked out and slumped over, man you had me worried.”

Dream sat in silence once more. His cell must be pretty far from where the contraption came from, he noted as he listened to its whirring getting quieter as it drifted further and further away from him. Sam had been kind to drop off some books for him to read as time passed. Now that the room was vacant, spare the criminal, Dream could hear the clock again. It ticked consistently as made his way back to his corner.

He reminisced over how easily he’d been able to make George blush, a simple lean forward and George’s emotions were immediately thrown off. He revelled in the fact George had become so perplexed and easily aroused. He reached over and opened his journal and began to feverishly pen down what he planned to ask George about when he arrived next. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was so fun to write thank you for getting this far! chapter three is hopefully going to be a bit spicier <3


	3. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George doesn't return, which leaves Dream conversing with a strange hybrid scout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter, but I've gotten a lot written on the next one since I'd prefer to publish as I go rather than waiting to publish in bulk. Let me know what you think, I love the feedback!

Dream remained miserable for what felt like an eternity. He reminisced while staring at the sketch of George he had done earlier, scrutinizing how he hadn’t been able to get his hair right. Tracing his finger along the curve in George’s spine he thought of how small but strong he’d been. He groaned and closed the journal and tossed it towards the chest across the room. Running his fingers through his hair he lay back in defeat, exhausted by the emotional rollercoaster the day had been. 

Hours had passed and Dream hadn’t moved from his corner. He hadn’t gotten any sleep since George left. Rolling over he glared at the clock with bloodshot eyes and watched the hands move rhythmically. There were a few hours until a guard would visit again. Dream finally let himself relax and slip into a familiar dreamland.

It was the meadow again, covered in warm hazy morning dew. Dream awoke in a different place, this time laying back underneath an aspen tree at the cusp of the pasture. He sat up and watched deer graze peacefully as the sun rose. Leaning his weight on his knees he rose and stood to get a better look at where he was in relation to his former home. The scenery around him was akin to something a romanticist would paint and cherish, with the sun cresting over the tall gentle clouds. It almost didn’t feel like he was dreaming as the mild temperature from his cell lent itself to the realistic feel of the dewy warmth of the early morning. He scanned his field of vision until his eyes fell upon the same old cottage he had built with his friend, almost hidden in the crook of the trees. Cautiously he started heading towards the other end of the greenery where his house would be. The deer looked up out of curiosity as a figure approached, and Dream made eye contact with the buck. The deer’s eyes had a familiar deep brown shade, like George’s. Dream politely gave the deer a wide girth so that he didn’t interrupt their morning meal. Once passed the creatures he saw the cottage, but it wasn’t inhabited like it was last time. This time it looked dilapidated, the front door discoloured, beams sagging, most of the window panes holding fragments of broken glass, and the cobblestone overcome with moss and ivy. He furrowed his brow and his face scrunched into a frown upon the sight of his degraded home but reached for the doorknob anyway. It creaked loudly as if to complain about being disturbed. The roof had been worn through from weather and water was dripping onto the ground forming puddles that small frogs found refuge in, singing quietly. The hardwood floor had been softened by a layer of moss, the walls were strung with invasive ivy, and grass had sprouted on the glass-littered window sills. Seeing his comfort space so aged and vacant broke him. He knelt on the mossy floor, scaring the frogs away, and gazed into his reflection in the puddle as tears began to well up. He studied his reflection and was saddened by how thin his face had gotten from his time away. The tears began to passively drip down his face and into the water causing ripples to form, distorting his sad reflection. He shut his eyes as he continued to weep, letting his inner demons and fears be felt. The decay of his old life and insignificance of his current one made his head hurt and mentally spiral as his intrusive thoughts found themselves vocal. As he was letting his thoughts run free he felt a hand on his shoulder, grounding him back to reality. He looked into the puddle, bleary-eyed into the reflection of familiar thoughtful pair of brown eyes. George. His head snapped towards where George should have been but there was no one there, he was still alone. “Come now, don’t do this to me, not like this.” Upon the release of these emotion-fueled words, Dream cried harder, body racking with sobs, curling tightly into a ball attempting to emulate the feeling of being hugged tightly. 

Dream was rudely awoken and torn from his unconscious reality by the pain in his hand flaring up. He had curled into the fetal position, hugging himself and had rolled onto his bandaged hand without meaning to. It took a few moments staring at his hand with an obscured vision before he realized he  _ had _ been crying. He wiped his tired eyes and tried to recall what had spurred the tears on. There was a meadow, with the old cottage, yes, then it was run down and dilapidated, then George… George. The tears started again as he remembered the split second of comfort he felt in that intimate moment wasn’t even real. The whole thing felt wrong, he wasn’t supposed to feel for his guard, that's not normal. He went to retrieve the journal that he’d fiercely flung across the room earlier and opened up the page where he’d drawn his friend he fancied. Seeing the picture gave him a sense of comfort knowing he would see him again, but not soon. He let his tears spill onto the drawing and rolled down the page, settling in the crease of the book. He feverishly tried to dry them, accidentally smudging the picture. Frustrated he closed the book and his watery eyes and let himself relax and fell asleep but this time there was no dreaming, only restful sleep. 

When he awoke there were about two hours before the next scout would arrive. He hoped it would be the same brunette as before. For security’s sake, he glanced around the room and let his gaze rest on the dark stain beside the clock. He considered how angry he felt then and how that same angst was building once again, and it needed an escape, and soon. Trying to dampen his temper, Dream went to grab some food from the chest and found the familiar starchy potatoes and sat at the edge of his cell eating, tossing the skins into the void as he ate.

The two hours passed with relative ease, and numbness. Dream had dampened the torrent of emotions he refused to face alone. He sat facing the wall throwing a ball of paper so it would bounce back at him, playing catch with himself to let the minutes pass faster. The soft crunch of the paper’s impact felt loud compared to the cell when George was here. His cycle of mindlessly throwing a wad of paper was interrupted by a metal clanging far off. It was the machine back to deliver a guard to babysit the criminal. He stood up silently hoping the machine was carrying George. 

There it was, the silhouette of the same contraption that had taken George from his cell and his arms. The ship was carrying a tall passenger, presumably Sam, and another figure, but much taller, therefore, not George. He sulked back into his corner as the airship approached with a heavier heart than he’d care to admit. 

The machine idled as he heard Sam step off with a new guard in tow. Dream had his eyes closed and wasn’t able to comprehend anything being said other than he caught the name of the guard was Ranboo. Strange name, but carrying a nickname like “Dream,” he bit his tongue and stayed quiet. The stranger's voice was shrill with nerves and sounded relatively young. He smirked knowing that he could more than likely take advantage of this kid.

“Alrighty, so, Mr. Criminal Man, I expect perfect behaviour, and nothing less,” Ranboo puffed out his chest attempting to look larger. Dream looked up at the scout and was visibly awestruck. Ranboo had his face and hair split, one-half white, the other black. Upon further inspection, he saw it carried over to the rest of his body with hands and ankles opposite colours as well. His gaze traced up the figure to meet his eyes, one red and fiery, the other green and mischievous. 

“Uh, no offence, but what  _ are _ you?” Dream inquired.

“Oh, heh,” Ranboo seemed to be relieved that Dream began with small talk, even if it was small talk with someone as notorious as this criminal, “I’ve been told I’m one-half enderman and another half ghast, but no one knows for sure how I came about.” 

“Wicked,” Dream was only half faking enthusiasm, as sightings of both creatures were rare in the places he lived. 

“Yeah, it’s kind of neat, except when the two different halves of my brain start to disagree,” Ranboo let out a breathy laugh and relaxed his posture. It hadn’t occurred to Dream that Ranboo was taller than him, and very gangly at that, but it made sense being a hybrid of such outlandish creatures. 

“So,” Dream began coyly, “what do you know about the guy who watched me before you did, what was his name, ah, George! That’s right, tell me, what’s he like outside of this place,” he said gesturing around the cell.

“Oh, him, he’s pretty intense, rarely smiles back at me, but rightfully so, as I look a bit scary. I heard he moved here from the Capitol a few years back but was stubborn and climbed the ranks fast. I kind of serve under him. He’s pretty high up in the ranks… wait, why are you asking?” Dream hadn’t been careful enough to hide the mischievous gears turning in his head. Ranboo concluded with, “I’ve said too much.” 

“What! I ought to be offended by such accusations,” Dream was really playing up theatrics into his performance, hoping Ranboo would let him play the victim. 

“No, no, that’s not what I meant, shoot, uh, let’s try that again,” Dream smirked, he was just where he wanted him, flustered and on edge, easy to manipulate. Ranboo collected himself, “George is basically second in command to Sam, whereas I serve under them. That’s basically it, I didn’t mean it like that really.” 

“Hmm, well, tell you what, I will keep my mouth shut if you promise me you’ll do me a favour.” 

“What exactly do you have in mind?” Ranboo replied cautiously, but Dream knew he got him.

“Keep me entertained. We can play any game that involves paper and writing, as that’s all they’ve given me. Sounds fair, right?” Ranboo expected something much more devious, but agreed, as it would help the time pass. 

“Good choice boy, now for this one take your age, you know your age, right?” 

“Uh, yes sir,” Ranboo didn’t realize he was giving Dream information about himself under the clever guise of a game.

“So, multiply the first number by five, add three to that. Got that?” Ranboo was scribbling feverishly, only to look up to count numbers on his fingers with a serious face. Dream continued, “Okay, now double that figure, finally add the second number of your age, and deduct six, what’d you get?”

“Seventeen! That’s so cool!”

“I know isn’t it so neat!” Dream showed enthusiasm outwardly but was internally joyous that Ranboo was gullible enough to reveal his age, even though it was a small detail. He was excited to see what else he could potentially extort from the hybrid kid.

They continued with more innocent games so Dream could keep Ranboo’s mind at ease while he played right into his hands. Throughout their time hanging out with Ranboo, he learned that to become a guard, first intense training as a scout for seven months was mandatory. Dream noted that George was probably not a scout, as he was a second-rank guard to Sam, but Sam had written that only scouts would monitor his behaviour. He’d been using the terms interchangeably but was surprised there was an actual distinction and made a note to bother George about this on his next shift. Once given the opportunity to talk, Ranboo didn’t stop and kept rambling about whatever he so desired, including his favourite choice of bread at the bakery, it was sourdough, as well as the locations of the best fruit stands, the ones almost in the back alley, surprisingly enough. He was very pleased with what he had learned from the child. Clearly, the scout hadn’t learned to keep his mouth shut and he could benefit from only minimal manipulation. 

Once a few hours had passed both parties grew tired and decided to dig into fresher potatoes that had come with Ranboo. They ate in silence sitting across from another, awkwardly distant. Dream noticed how time wasn’t moving as fast as it did, whereas, with George, it flew by. Even if George was awkward he enjoyed their time. George had such a small frame, his gentle lips and small smile he always hid but was dying to show. 

“... hello?” Ranboo was talking to him, but upon the thought of George, his mind slipped into a trance. 

“Sorry what. I must’ve zoned out what were you saying?” Dream tried desperately to obscure the smile growing on his face, but it was too late, Ranboo saw.

“No, no, no, I want to know what you were thinking of, what was that smile? I’ve observed humans before, you made that face that humans do when they are feeling, what’s the word, love!” The rate at which Ranboo spoke was frantic and rapid as Dream choked on the potato he had in his mouth and sputtered, “What! No, what are you on about? I was thinking about my dream last night,” it was a partial truth since George  _ had  _ been there. Dream cursed himself for not holding his cards closer and letting his expression slip. “Whatever you say, man, I’ve seen that look in the eyes of newlyweds on their day of unity,” he could hear Ranboo’s smile and the curiosity seep into the words he spoke. “Oh, forget it, you're a funny kid,” Dream shrugged the comments off, and turned away as he felt a familiar blush begin to rise. The growing angst wasn’t helped by this. “Yeah, well I’m going to pass out for a few hours, see you later.” 

“Sure thing big man,” Ranboo slumped over the chest and began to sort out the journals and food, humming a tune. 

Ever since he’d left Dream’s cell he couldn’t quite get his head on straight. Maybe it was because a high-class criminal tried to play cutesy with him or perhaps it was that he had been manipulated into thinking it was more than that. “Hello there” Sam knocked on the doorframe of George’s office with a cup of something in hand, causing George to jump, snapping him back to reality. 

“Oh! Sorry, just lost in thought.” He waved his hand, dismissing the intrusive thoughts of his captor. 

“You’ve got faith in that kid I sent down there?” Sam questioned as he swung his leg into the room. He decided to reside in the plush armchair in the corner. George faced his visitor, “Oh, sure, the hybrid?” 

“Yeah, that one,” Sam said, crossing his legs casually. 

“As far as I’m concerned that boy’s a good egg. I have a theory that his inhuman brain isn’t susceptible to the prisoner’s keen manipulative tactics.”

“Intriguing, honestly…” 

The two continued casual banter as usual, but George was letting the words fall out of his mouth as his mind wandered back to the night before, wherein the heat of underground he was being held by the person they held captive. He let himself think back to his delirious ecstasy of waking in another’s arms from a strange flashback, where he felt oddly safe. Dream knew how to play the flirting game, and controlled his heartstrings like strings on a marionette, with him as the puppet. George knew that Dream was conniving and probably faking the emotions he used to get under his skin, but the way he teased and had leaned up to touch noses felt like more. He acted like he detested the touch and mind games, but somewhere subconsciously he knew he loved it, the tension it built was delicious. Dream had found the razor-thin edge between romantic toxicity and eroticism and it was so hot it burned him. 

“George, you good man?” The sound of Sam’s nervous laugh was amplified by the hushed manner of the law offices. 

George was quickly sobered from his feverish thirsting by Sam letting the conversation lul and calling him out. Sam was muted when he saw a soft pink tinge begin to develop and deepen in George’s cheeks. 

“Oh, sorry yeah, just tired, must be coming down with something,” using sickness as an excuse for the sudden heat he felt and swallowed, tried to recall what was being discussed before he blanked. 

“Do you need to head home? I can make you a cup of tea if you’d like-” Sam was cut off by George trying to ease the worry in Sam’s voice making Sam sit up from his relaxed posture to lean his hands on his knees, ready to stand up to take action.

“Oh, no, no that won’t be necessary, I’ll be alright, I’m still on for the next shift correct?” George gave a halfhearted chuckle trying to ease Sam’s sudden nerves as he wasn’t keen on the idea of missing out on what was to come. 

“Well that is coming up soon, I’ll meet you back here in an hour or so, sound good?” George nodded in response as Sam stepped out, clearly wanting to avoid whatever had George blushing so intensely. George was notorious for being emotionally indifferent, so seeing him suddenly turn was almost unsettling to Sam. 

With a sigh, George leaned back into his chair and stretched, almost excited for what that night would behold. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehehehe i wonder what will happen next  
> don't forget I've got me a twitter id be happy for some more moots


	4. Wanting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream feels fiercely for his captor and it's finally landed him in trouble...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehhehe okay this chapter is defo more spicy, so be warned if you blush easily, it was so fun to write <3
> 
> also I know I posted yesterday but I was really productive at 4 am and got this b done so come get your juice

Instead of falling into his dreamland and waking up in the same meadow, Dream awoke in a strange plane of existence with water almost ankle-high and absolute darkness. He was standing up instead of laying down which was also rather unusual. His eyes adjusted and managed to see at least a few metres away as he reached out, throwing his hands forward instinctually. Confused, he tried to call out but was met with a strained high pitched noise that hurt his throat. He rubbed his neck trying to soothe the pain inside while taking cautious steps forward. His brain was sharp so he attempted to find the horizon but to no avail. Just as he was about to give up he saw a small flick of light flashed then dimmed down like a fire, revealing a humanesque silhouette. In a mad dash, he ran for the source of light and the potential person with the water splashing, dampening his pace. Once a few metres away the form turned to face him. It was George, holding a lit torch in one hand and a map in the other, with a sly expression. 

“What are you doing here?” Dream choked his words out, rife with nerves. 

“I’ve won. You found me,” George’s mouth cracked into a devious grin. That didn’t answer his question but he was curious what he had meant. What had he won?

“I’m sorry? What did you win, what game were you playing?” Dream was trying to process what George was going on about.

“Do I really have to spell it out for you? You were looking for somewhere safe to go, and you found me, which means I won over everybody else. What does that mean to you? I’m flattered really, you should see your face,” George announced cockily nodding at Dream’s face which was now pale with disbelief. “Oh, come now,” George stepped forward with purpose, causing Dream to step back, causing the water to ripple. George stopped and waited for Dream to react, but after a second of silence, he continued. With animalistic desire in his eyes, he jumped, tackling Dream, knocking both of them backwards. Dream braced for the impact that the cold floor and water would bring but was instead met with a gentle surface and he opened his eyes. They had fallen onto a cloud during the zenith of a dancing sunset, warm colours licking across the horizon, with the sky fading into a deep navy blue towards the east letting the stars peek out. Entranced by the sky Dream didn’t realize George was sprawled atop him from diving at him. He glanced down at the brunette as he gracefully rolled off his slender body, entranced at the sky, and lay on his back to watch the sky in its twilight glory. They both reclined, Dream propped up on his elbows and George laying close with his head cradled in his hands, both captivated by the stunning beauty of nightfall. 

Dream turned his head to look at George’s face, freckles mirroring the stars above. He had a sharp profile with a jawline that wasn’t near as noticeable when he was facing forward and lips that looked as soft as the clouds around them. George felt eyes on him and shifted onto his side to face him, beaming pleasantly. Dream dropped his gaze and went as red as the sinking sun. He heard a sweet laugh and George reached out to poke at his nose, where they had previously touched, making Dream’s ears glow furiously in the fading sunlight. He felt euphoric, finally his newfound love interest reciprocating the fondness, and brought his eyes back up to meet George’s. The sky’s reflection in his eyes made his heart somersault as he felt blood rush, leaving a tightness in his pants. George watched embarrassment infect Dream’s form as he crumpled inward in an attempt to hide his passion, and smirked, taking this as an opportunity to once again pounce. He swung his arm over Dream as he playfully pinned his warm body beneath him. George’s hips brushed over his hard spot and Dream let a small groan escape his lips. Their eyes met and George’s had a devious glint and reached his hand to hold his chin with two fingers and thumb. With a sly smile, he extended his index finger and pressed it against his carotid artery and whispered, “Your heartbeat is rather quick, how fascinating.” He let his arms give way, pressing his weight against Dream. He squirmed, only stimulating Dream more, and got comfortable and nuzzled his face in the crook between his collarbones and neck Dream was caught up in the heat of the moment and let his hands wander up to his small torso and felt his hips give way to sinewy laterals. He was surprisingly muscular and hid it well with baggy clothing. It felt so real until something made an impact on his chest and his eyelids flew open.

It was George throwing a satchel of raw potatoes at his sleeping corpse. As happy as he was to see him, Dream was upset being awoken from such ecstasy and realized that he was out of luck, hard, out of luck. He blushed, gathering his knees to his chest to hide his shame. 

“What? Why are you shying away, I brought breakfast,” George said shrugging at the package at the foot of Dream’s mat, and he threw his guard a filthy look. George was trying to remain poker-faced but Dream was supposed to be the coy one and he was the one dishing the dirty looks, not the other way around.

“Aw, what’re you pouting about?” George decided to play the part Dream normally did, smooth and aloof. Dream rolled his eyes and shuffled to face the wall melodramatically. George huffed, taking a seat next to him, causing him to look up. He was out of his comfort zone being the confident one but gave him an, “Aww, did I upset the baby?” Dream shoved him away playfully with a breathy laugh and released his legs from his chest to kick at George. “Stop, stop I could report this and take away your eating privileges,” George was playfully batting at his legs until his gaze wandered up and saw Dream had risen to the occasion, so to speak. With a feverish blush, George was stunned by his cellmate’s size. Dream saw his reaction and immediately apologized and George awkwardly laughed it off. Dream knew George was friendly towards him but he craved more and he was so close to getting that, all he had to do was ask. 

Dream opened his lips, primed to speak but George beat him to it, “So, how was the last scout?” 

“Oh, good kid, young, little funky, not too bad,” Dream let his thoughts about George being more than friends go, as it seemed he wasn't ready for that. 

George was taken aback by the bulge in the prisoner’s shorts but chalked it up to being nothing more than morning blood flow. 

“So, did you by chance work in the Capitol?” Dream decided to begin to peel back the layers of George’s skull and crack into his brain and figure out his past as best he could. 

“As a matter of fact I did, how’d you know?” George wasn’t necessarily supposed to be revealing personal information, but he figured he could give some to get some, and learn more about Dream. 

“I had a dream you were running a produce stand on the main street and it seemed familiar. People in our dreams are reflections of our own lives, I must’ve seen your face somewhere, so it made sense you would show up,” Dream was smiling as he told George about the unconscious connection he felt towards him.

“Yeah, I moved down from the Northern Mountains to get a new start. Life up there wasn’t exactly prosperous, but I found a job via my landlord, but it wasn’t near enough, so here I am, a guard. I love the way you talk about your dreams. Is that how you got your nickname?” George rarely reflected on his past, as he found it easier to learn from his mistakes and move on. 

“Oh,” Dream was taken by surprise at George’s intuition, “Yeah, as a kid I had vivid dreams, still do I guess, but I wouldn’t shut up about them, so my friends started using it to refer to me, and it kind of stuck. 

“That’s cute,” George said letting a smile creep across his face. George appreciated the strange mutual friendship they’ve formed. 

“Nah, everyone just forgot my real name over time,” Dream reminisced over Sap and Wilbur when they were dumb teens and lived together in that cottage. Wilbur loved nicknaming his pals and after his friend fell asleep in the crook of a pine tree one late spring, he was deemed Sapnap. In his teen years, Dream would wake up in a tizzy at ungodly hours of the day and accidentally wake his bunkmates by sobbing from the unconscious reality he was torn from. Being good buddies they’d listen to him until exhaustion took him back peacefully. One night when he had an exceptionally awful nightmare and was convinced he was stuck in his dreams Wilbur started calling him Dream so that he knew he was in reality. A strange tactic, but it worked and falling asleep became less scary. 

“When did Sapnap become a scout?” Dream was curious what his friends were up to these days. Once the famine hit they all were adults and decided it’d be best to split from the cottage to pursue work. Dream became a bounty hunter and a good one at that.

“Oh, stocky stubbled boy? He’s almost a guard ya know, hard worker, good at foraging that one. He joined us almost a year ago, started as a dishwasher, it was hilarious, he kept breaking the delicate goblets.” George smirked at the memory of Sapnap’s burly hands grasping the glasses too hard. Dream wheezed in response to the mental image of his old pal being a dishwasher, he always was the one dirtying the dishes rather than cleaning when they lived together. As Dream let his mind wander the certain area in his pants began to loosen.

“So there  _ is  _ a difference between a guard and a scout,” Dream began to tease.

“Oh, smart boy, how’d you figure?” George nudged back with a devious glint in his eyes.

“Well that hybrid kid doesn’t do too well with shutting his mouth,” Dream retorted playfully.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re much better,” George relished watching Dream get riled up. As if to read his mind Dream responded with, “Alright, we’ve both had a go at each other, yes? How about we wrestle for real, no weapons, hand to hand until the other taps out.”

“Oh, you think you can overpower me?” George was astounded by his companion's boisterousness, “I could take you any day, pretty boy.”

“Oh, bring it short stuff,” Dream retorted, getting up arms primed to grapple.

“Mmm, real creative, you’re lacking in both brains and strength, blondie” George stood up, rolled up his sleeves, and bent his knees, ready to go. They both were poised ready to strike, slowly circling one another.

“Try me,” and with that Dream sprung at George, aiming for his torso. George figured he would make the first move, how typical. George narrowly avoided him by sidestepping, Dream lurched to a stop and turned, jumping at George’s back. Unhesitantly, George dropped to the floor swiping his leg underneath Dream to knock him down. George considered that he could have planted his elbow in Dream’s back after stepping away, but spur of the moment decided he’d rather not hurt him. With that, Dream lost his footing and stumbled forward but was able to catch himself before he slammed into the wall opposite George. He whipped around and smirked at George who was already back on his feet, gearing up to attack. Dream stayed back, knees bent at the ready, letting George take a go at him. George knew his stature gave Dream the strength advantage but he had speed. He ran at Dream with reckless abandon in a snaking pattern in an attempt to deter any confidence his opponent gathered. George sprung off of his right leg to flip over Dream to get behind him, catching a split second of eye contact. Lucky for George, Dream was unprepared, and George let himself roll off of his back, and landed and turned on his heel. Dream felt the warmth of George’s body on top of him and knew me messed up, but he caught a familiar whiff of lavender soap George used and it made his brain buzz. George kicked at the bend in Dream’s knees, forcing him to kneel and grappled him into a headlock. 

“You can do better than that, surely,” George’s voice rasped in his ear, numbing his senses, and slipping into submission. 

“I’m afraid I don’t want to win sir, it’s quite fun having you dominate me,” Dream mused while his hand wandered onto George’s upper thigh and grasped hard. He pulled out a dagger he saw George had been trying to conceal in one of the pockets. He couldn't see where his opponent was exactly but he held it behind his head anyway, at where George’s neck should be. George gasped at Dream’s slender hands clutching his thigh then disarming him. Dream could feel George’s pulse quicken and breaths shallow with his body pressed so intimately. George was about to call it a draw but was interrupted.

Dream felt the weight on top of him give way as George made strangled incoherent sounds. He rolled over to see what the issue was and was promptly met with a heavy boot on his chest. It was Sam with his mask plate on, holding George by the scruff of his shirt trying to tuck him behind him. Dream was too busy assessing what transpired to notice Sam had a Damascus steel rapier drawn and pressed against his neck. Dream remained in his position laying down and casually lifted his hands towards his head, fingers outstretched, dropping George’s dagger in the process. Without a word, Sam used the tip of his blade to flick the dagger away from him.

“What did I just walk into?” Sam questioned, voice monotone, eyes still glued on the criminal laying horizontally. 

“Commander I-” George began but was immediately cut off by Dream, “Sorry I got carried away, I thought I could take him, I figured maybe I could barter him for some good books, and if I beat him he’d get some actual literature. George isn’t to blame, even if he is a lousy guard.”

George scoffed at his response but didn’t add anything as he knew it could get him stripped of his position, meddling with prisoners and such. Sam nodded at Dream’s explanation and spoke, gaze still locked on Dream, “Is this true?”

“Yes sir, I don’t think he intended to hurt as he could’ve very easily,” George responded astutely, subtly chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“And you remain unharmed?” Sam spoke with authority, more than usual as his adrenaline was high. George gave a sharp nod in response. Sam swiftly reached into a satchel on his belt and pulled out a clean-looking jingling pair of handcuffs, presumably steel and possibly forged by Sapnap, and tossed them at George. Being unprepared, George hit them in the air nervously and managed to catch them, and proceeded to swiftly knelt to put his friend in shackles. 

“Are you really going to put me on the wall,” Dream questioned letting a slight groan out. He didn’t want to get into more trouble so he let George wrap the cold metal around his wrists. George mouthed the words, “ _ I’m sorry _ ,” and with a clean click, the cuffs were in place.

“We can either have you starfished against the wall or laying down, but I’ll be nice and let you alternate every few hours so blood doesn’t pool.” There wasn’t a shred of jest in Sam’s voice. George had never seen him present himself so formally.

“Now, I was originally here to deliver the restraining equipment and coincidentally I arrived just in time to put it to use. Do you want me to stay the remainder of your shift George?” 

“Wha- no I should be okay, once we get him pinned down of course,” Dream pursed his lips at George’s remark. With his response, Sam grabbed the chain between the cuffs and made his way to the corner of the room, with Dream’s limp body in tow. Dream locked eyes with George, who was stifling laughter watching Dream be lifelessly dragged and scowled something fierce. Sam made quick work and attached the cuffs to a bolt in the wall Dream didn’t notice and clamped his ankles onto the stone floor.

“That should keep you out of trouble,” Sam said, betraying no emotion, and turning to George, “If any other issue arises don’t hesitate to use this.” Sam bent down and picked up the dagger, holding it by the blade, and offered it back to George. “Thank you,” George sounded serious when he spoke to his authority. Dream rolled his eyes knowing George was too innocuous to put his blade maliciously against his flesh. Sam turned and stepped onto the platform, swung the lever, and was off, leaving the pair to their own devices. 

When the droning of the flying craft faded out Dream let loose a torrent of words, “You’ve got to be joking, that was the worst-case scenario, this wouldn't have happened had you just simply knocked me down when you first had the chance, you owe me big time…” Dream was writhing with energy as he spoke, rattling the chains that held him hostage, “He literally had a sword at my throat, ready to go. You were  _ laughing _ at me, the audacity.” George confidently strode over, tuning out Dream’s incessant chatter, and leaned down over Dream and pressed his lips on his. Dream’s body stilled completely, breathing so shallow, he felt dead. The blond didn’t have time to react or even kiss back and remained stagnant. George moved away teasingly, the echo of the clinking metal still ringing in his ears. Dream let a small whine escape from his lips as George pulled away. Dream lay completely still, mind abuzz.

“Oh,  _ now  _ you behave?” George laughed as he lightheartedly kicked at Dreams ribs. 

“Pardon my French, but what the  _ fuck  _ was that?” Dream was already riled up from being restrained by the small man, but now this. It felt like a fire was lit in his brain, nerves acting like a fuse tracing to explosives to the growing muscles in his pants. George watched Dream mentally unpack what just took place as a tent began to pitch itself in his shorts.

“I wanted to punish you for embarrassing me in front of my superior,” George didn’t know where this newfound air of confidence was coming from, but he feared if he stopped now it would never return. 

“You’re joking, right? Do you find amusement in watching me…” Dream didn’t want to finish his sentence out of sheer bashfulness. George picked up on this and helped him with “… get turned on? Yes, I do find it quite amusing, your eyes get ravenous and body language becomes desperate.” George knew his raging blush wasn't visible but he felt the heat from his skin slowly bake his brain into mush. He knew he had to stop eventually, otherwise, where would this lead?

“Well, I’m exhausted so goodnight,” Dream said, mustering all the sass he could into those words and finished by sticking his tongue out at George. “Wow, okay, real mature, goodnight baby boy, enjoy the restraints.” 

“You know what, I will,” and with that Dream shut his eyes and cocked his chin up, maintaining that same poise only an idiot like him could keep while being handcuffed to the floor. George rolled his eyes, let out a sigh, and went to grab any leftover potatoes to snack on. 

A few hours had passed and George grew bored of the occasional perusing the chest and sat dejected staring at the abyss. He was considering snooping through journals Dream had written in, but was interrupted by Dream sleep talking. Cautiously he tiptoes over, trying to make out any words he recognized. 

There was no meadow again, which was strange. Dream found himself in the Capitol once more, but instead of the usually bustling streets and markets, it was dead quiet and dark. Light emanated from lampposts placed along the pavement. “Hello?” he cried out, seeking any company he might find here. George stepped out from an alleyway, into the spotlight underneath the lamp, dagger in hand. Before Dream knew what was going on George was already on top of him, grabbing his blond hair, and cutting chunks of it away. Dream had no idea what was taking place and why, but he felt the betrayal in George's actions. He cried out for anyone who might hear him, hoping someone could help.

“Hello… No. Help, please… George, please, stop,” tears began to flow down Dream’s sunken face. Thoughts began to race in Geroge’s head, what was he dreaming about? Was he hurting him, and did his opinion of him transfer into his subconscious? Did he make him cry without meaning to, was this his fault? George was interrupted from speculation by Dream beginning to thrash around in his sleep while crying out, “No! You’ve got to help me!” George couldn’t bear it anymore and shook Dream awake. In the most compassionate voice he could manage he whispered, “Hey, hey wake up, it’s okay, you were dreaming.” 

Dream woke up gasping for breath, then lay still, taking time to adjust to his surroundings. What had just happened? There was darkness, then sudden violence, then… George, again? He sniffed and began in a fearful childlike voice, “Hello?” 

“It’s just a nightmare, you’re safe now,” George’s bedside manner was getting the better of him as he sat next to the prisoner. Dream blinked the tears out of his eyes as best he could, “Could you, help me wipe my face, I kind of can’t do it myself.” Without saying a word Geroge produced a handkerchief and dabbed the tears away. Dream muttered thanks while wondering why George was suddenly so caring. 

“You going to be okay?” Concern had seeped into George’s words and Dream felt himself smiling, despite himself. “I don’t know, I felt so alone it was scary,” he was partially playing it up so that he could keep George’s attention, but part of him had truly been shaken by the nightmare. 

“Well you’re not alone now, it’ll be okay,” George lay beside Dream, bodies noticeably close, radiating heat and want. 

“Do you think you could find it in your heart to hug me,” even just waking from a nightmare Dream kept his humour. George let a small laugh out as he rolled over, wrapping his arms and legs around the tall man. “Thank you, it’s not as scary anymore,” Dream told him. In the comfort of being held, Dream let himself fall back asleep and George found himself rather content, cradling one of the most wanted criminals to sleep. The last thing Dream heard were the words, “We’re okay,” before descending into a restful slumber. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i literally cant say thank you enough for tuning in and viewing my work! writing has been my escape in the mundane of the world and having others read it and enjoy it is euphoric, so thank you again so so so much! feel free to leave me some feedback, here or on mi twitter <3


	5. Infatuation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The growing angst finally comes to a head once George teases a bit too hard...
> 
> //nsfw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW//!! HEAVY NSFW !!
> 
> this is a warning, you've been warned, last chance to leave before you go to horny jail
> 
> happy valentine's hope you enjoy :]

George walked down the mountain for hours. He set his bags down under an outcropping of rocks to shelter himself from the snow and harsh wind the night would bring. Digging through his bags he managed to produce firewood he had stored away in case he didn’t make it down the mountains by nightfall. 

He crouched over the damp ground and struck his knife against his flint rock causing sparks to dance across the logs. The small fire kindled to life, the light danced across his cold rosy cheeks as the sun began to set. 

He curled up, hugging his knees to his chest as the cold set in and the moon took its place on the throne of clouds in the sky. George craned his neck to observe the sky, basking in its eminence. 

_What am I doing here? I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’m going from here. Did I make the right choice?_

The uncertainty and the overwhelming amount of change occurring became too much. George slumped over and let his head rest on his arms. He silently wept into his arms, sogging his favourite coat. The corduroy fabric scratched at his cold, sensitive face as he wiped away his tears. The onset of emotions continued to spill as the wind made the fire dance. 

_Nothing will be the same. The stray mountain cats will have to fend for themselves, but at least the postage man won’t have to make the long tedious hikes up to me anymore._

He tilted his head back up and his bleary eyes fell upon a familiar constellation blinking into existence, Ursa Major and close by Ursa Minor. He traced his eyes over the constellation finding comfort in its consistency to continually reappear. Blinking the tears out of his eyes he silently thanked them for appearing for him. He let his gaze fall onto the town below lamps twinkling in the dark and looked back up at the expanse of celestial bodies making their presence known. 

With tired eyes growing heavy he was ready to turn in for the night, but a movement in the sky caught his eye. It was a graceful shooting star streaking across the sky and promptly disappearing. George dropped his jaw and caught it with a hopeful grin, the sky had given him a falling star to wish upon. He knew it meant nothing significant, but it felt good to manifest some energy into something he wanted, after all, what was the harm?

He fondly remembered how in childhood he would always wish upon the stars for a friend.

He closed his eyes and whispered to himself, _“Please give me companionship in this lonely world, I’d love that more than anything, more than a place to live, or food to eat.”_

~

George felt Dream’s body relax and muscles slack as he fell asleep in his arms. George had so badly wanted to jokingly stab at him for being so reared up, but he was struggling with similar issues, per se. George wanted to relieve himself but he knew down here was not the time nor place. 

He whispered down to Dream, “ _Believe it or not you’re kind of adorable when you sleep, but that might be because you shut up_.”

Dream gave back a grunt in response, basically lifeless. Gingerly, George moved his hand to sweep away the blond hair concealing Dream’s face, trying so desperately not to wake him. 

Dream had an angular jaw that his hair and stubble hid. George’s eyes traced Dream’s face and he had an annoyingly good profile. His mouth was open slightly while he remained asleep, which let his lips lay at rest, making his face look at peace. 

They lay together bodies and chains intertwined. He couldn’t believe he had conceived such an intimate relationship with a criminal, and a notorious one at that, and let out a sigh. 

Dream was slowly roused awake by the movements of his companion’s breathing. 

With the grogginess of sleep palpable in his voice, he muttered, “Baby? What time is it?”

“Baby?!” George felt electricity course through his spinal cord as he sat up. “What did you call me?”

Dream came to his senses and was flustered that Geroge was still curled around him, well he _was_ at least until he called him baby. “Wha- how long have you been here? Did we..?”  
  
“Oh good lord, no,” George breathed out, recoiling, pretending to be appalled at the idea of them roughing around. 

“Oh,” what was that in Dream’s voice? There were some undertones of disappointment coated by sheer want. George tilted his head and smirked. 

“You sound almost sad, what’s with that?” George knew what he was doing. Dream was all talk without action to follow through. Geroge wanted to tease Dream until emotion shone through and he lashed out at him, whether verbally or physically. 

“Oh, nothing, I guess it’s been a while since I’ve had someone _that_ close, you know?” Dream had let his loneliness surface through his tired haze. 

George hummed and nodded his head in response, “Yeah, I can relate with you there. After all, I haven’t met any other gays that aren’t boring, aside from you.”  
  
“Wha- I’m not… no,” Dream was stunned with the slap of reality in his face. He never labelled himself and remained ambiguous when it came to sexuality, as he felt he need not contain himself with a label. “Well, maybe.” 

“You’re joking,” George shoved at his arm, “the way you leaned forward and played your strengths down just to get a touch, and the way you basked in that kiss, c’mon, that’s at least a bit suspicious, don’t you think?” 

“Well, prove me wrong, pretty boy,” Dream retorted with a facade of confidence, with terror sheltering behind. 

“Maybe I will,” it was George’s turn to be nervous and feign confidence. After all, he had been given a role he didn’t know if he’d be able to successfully follow through with. 

George ran his nimble fingers through Dream’s blond hair and a small whine elicited from his twitching lips. He wanted to hear him make that sound again, he demanded an encore. 

He firmly yanked the locks of hair and leaned in close enough to feel Dream’s goosebumps rise and whispered, “You know, you’re lucky I’m not a beginner,” George stated sharply. 

“Mmm, how so?” Dream teased back, trying to relax into his cuffs as they jangled. 

George decided to try teasing less verbally and swung his leg over the laying prisoner so that he sat just below his stomach. Dream flinched to curl up but was caught on the chains that cried when they were pulled taught. George smirked and ran his hands through his hair, leaned back, and slowly began to grind. 

Upon this friction and the hours spent wasting away alone Dream’s mind buzzed at the sensation, and he felt his heart drop to where George was applying his weight. He vigorously bit his bottom lip so that George wouldn’t get the satisfaction of hearing him cry out.

George cupped his hands around the stubbly face below his and kissed his forehead and lightly peppered kisses down until he reached his neck and began to nip. He started lightly nibbling at his neck and slowly applied more pressure until he reached the collar bones. George was careful enough not to leave bruises but aggressive enough to almost hurt.

  
“Wai- stop,” Dream sputtered out, hardly able to form words. George ceased his movements and began to lift his body away from Dream. 

“Did I do something wrong? I thought this is what you wanted-.” George was beginning to apologize but Dream interrupted him, “No you’re wonderful, but my shirt, too warm. I need it off.” 

“Oh I got this,” Dream noted that George sounded confident that he could remove his shirt even with the handcuffs on. 

“How are-” Dream was silenced by the sound of shredding fabric. George has carefully, and quickly at that, raked his knife down the middle of the shirt with extreme prestige. The pale cloth fell away, revealing a sweaty freckled torso that he had avoided slicing. George tossed the knife aside while maintaining eye contact, the blade skittering dramatically across the floor.

Dream looked up at the form towering over him, knuckles white, knees at his sides, stomach pushed forward, and chest flexed backwards. It was an erotic pose and he was almost disappointed when Geroge sat back over his sensitive areas, hands grabbing at the chains above Dream, hovering over his lewd body. 

George bowed his head and greedily bit at his chest with intent to leave marks this time, sucking his flesh in his mouth and clamping on it with his teeth. Dream’s spine arched from the onset of unexpected pain and pleasure. He had an inclination to open his mouth, the sensation overriding any rational thought. His neurons were firing in all the right places and it was delicious. 

He let an exhale through his open mouth but was interrupted by another mouth pressing into his. George felt Dream inhale sharply through his nose as they connected. George smiled into the kiss, breathing out warmly and Dream wanted to resist but couldn’t find it in himself to try and pull away. George bit at Dream’s lower lip and let it slide out from his teeth as he sat up.

Dream had his eyes closed, taking in all the sensations and could smell George’s floral soap and felt his soft brown hair occasionally gently tickle his forehead. He ached to reach his arms out to hold, play with, or simply touch the small body on top of his. 

Dream’s mind was paralyzed with inguinal pleasure, but George slowed to a stop. He opened his eyes to watch George peel his shirt off of his toned body and tossed it onto the floor. George could see the yearning infecting Dream’s eyes as he let his hands rest on his stomach and traced down towards his belt line. 

“Please-,” Dream began to beg, but George snapped back, holding a finger over his quivering mouth, “Hush now, I’m the one in charge here.”

George slid the linen prison shorts down to Dream’s ankles, letting his boxers remain tight and raring to go. “Mind if I?” George said politely gesturing towards his now more than friend’s underwear. 

“By all means,” he relaxed as George delicately pulled his boxers around his ankles, savouring the nakedness in front of him. 

“Have you ever bottomed?” George questioned as he stood up and frantically grabbed items from his pockets as he adjusted his belt and shuffled his shorts off. His body language seeping with hasty yearning.

“Uh, I actually haven’t, but for you, I’ll give it a go” Dream hated to admit it but he was new at this, but glad George was the one he would explore this with.

“Okay just relax as best you can, I’ve got all the time and oils necessary, it’s homemade with aloe and coconut oil, so just breathe.” George’s gaze softened, Dream noted his demeanour had changed from dominating assertiveness to tender and caring. He knew Dream would be tense and not at all equipped, but he came prepared with lube and rubber gloves and sleeves. George stretched a glove onto his hands and prepped himself with the lubricant.

“Alright just breathe,” and with that George gently worked his index finger inside, carefully stretching until he could fit two fingers in and used a scissoring motion to prep him.

“I’m not feeling much, is that normal?” Dream knew there was a pleasure to be had and wanted a serving.

“So impatient,” George smirked and curled his fingers upwards, striking the prostate and used rotating motions to stimulate it. Dream shuddered, leaking onto his chest while thrashing in the chains. George hummed in amusement and removed his hand from inside.

“You’re sure you are ready? You’re still…” George peeled the glove off and hid his nervousness for his partner, “a bit tight.” 

Dream managed to turn a darker shade of red, “I-I’m ready,” he managed to piece together words between the incoherent breathy sounds. 

He fit perfectly between Dream’s legs and was propped up and ready. He rolled the sleeve over himself and coated it in lube, Dream’s eyes greedily tracing it as it went. George pressed himself against the opening, and with little resistance pushed his way in slowly, not to tease, but to savour. 

Upon entrance, he could feel Dream constricting against his intrusion and he began to sway his hips hypnotically. Dream let a rich gravelly moan drip from his lips. George was able to contain himself, but the noises Dream was eliciting were ambrosial. 

“It h-urt-s so, s-o goo-d,” Dream managed to force words between laboured moaning breaths.

George traced his finger up his spine and wandered once again into his messy head of hair and clenched his fist with locks of blond hair and yanked. His neck was exposed and extended and George brought his head close, breathing heavily, teasingly close. 

He leaned up and kissed him deeply, and was met with eager lips. Their mouths connected and slid due to the movements of their radiating bodies. George raked his nails across Dream’s torso trying to find something to hold onto, but also inflict pain. 

Dream opened his mouth to cry out but only made a strangled noise due to the lips pressed against his. George saw this as an invitation to force his tongue in causing Dream to elicit a muffled, “Oh fu-ck.”

Dream felt like he was dreaming, but there was raw emotion in George’s fingernails digging into his thighs grounded him to this utopic reality. He let his head lurch backwards in the euphoria.

“For someone who’s never done this before you’re a natural,” Geroge managed with heavy breathing. “T-thank yooo-u,” Dream was barely holding on and George picked up on this and took it as an opportunity. He thrust practically as violently as he could almost completely out and immediately right back in. Dream was writhing in his restraints, tears spilling from his eyes as he howled.

“Going-g to cu-m, fu-c-k” Dream was a goner, spraying himself across his sweaty chest and managed to dribble some on his chin. George was decently close as well and watching him finish and feeling his body contract almost pushed him over the edge. George leaned forward and wiped the dribble off of Dream’s chin and hastily kissed his soft lips passionately. 

George kept going and Dream was nearing overstimulation and started writhing and bucking, adding to the friction. With a guttural noise, George came deep inside and finished pumping it out, weakened to his core. He felt his heart beating so intensely he was sure it was audible. Both were breathing intensely as if just running miles. George used Dreams’ torn shirt to hastily wipe down his torso and proceeded to collapse on top of him.

George wrapped his arms around Dream’s neck and could feel his heart trying to catch up, racing with the excitement the two had created. He didn’t bother pulling out, leaving them connected physically. The skin-to-skin contact was enticingly intimate; it left them both feeling content and fulfilled. 

They lay intertwined until Dream stirred making muffled noises. 

“What?” George wasn’t able to understand what he was trying to communicate and laughed at the indistinct sounds. 

“I said, we’re disgusting,” Dream wasn’t wrong. They had been laying down, keeping each other warm and had accumulated a fair amount of sweat. George sat up and gently detached himself from the sensuous body beneath his and wiped his face with his shirt he’d tossed aside earlier. 

He shook out his shorts and slid them back on and adjusted his belt and his eyes fell on Dream. He looked so vulnerable, splayed out, strung up, and naked. George smiled warmly and knelt to pull his shorts back up. Dream’s shirt had been ruined, so Geroge cut it from his arms and tossed it into the lava pit below. 

“Here, you’ll need this,” George said, lifting a pouch of water in an offering. Dream tilted his chin up and downed all that was there, finishing it off panting like a dog. 

George laughed, “Let me get you some more.” He went to refill his pouch but he was caught off guard by Dream’s ribs. He was floored by how boney he appeared once stretched out. 

“What’re you looking at,” Dream laughed when he saw George’s lustful gaze, eyes bugging. 

“You’re g-gorgeous,” Dream laughed at George’s stuttered response. Dream wasn’t able to get a proper look at George’s body and was able to get a good look now, and was amazed. He was muscular but slim, scars littering his pale skin like tally marks. 

“Wait, you called me gorgeous? How dare you throw such words around when you look like that,” Dream was dramatically ogling at George’s frame as he rolled his eyes and turned away to hide his blush.

“Oh, shut up,” George started to shuffle through the chest with Dream looking quizzically. 

“Aha, got it!” George shot up, holding a key high above his head. He scurried over to Dream’s cuffs and with a few clicks, they fell loose. 

Dream sat up scowling, rubbing his wrists, “Uh, yeah, which question, couldn’t have done that sooner!?” 

“I wasn’t sure if you would lash out or do something dumb, I don’t know. Besides, it’s more fun with them on, don’t you think?” George’s face melted into a smirk and winked, knowing that Dream wouldn’t argue with that. 

“Well, yeah, but,” he couldn’t counter that. George scrambled back to the chest and grabbed some fabric. Dream sat smiling and watched him excitedly scurry back to him and without warning George shoved the fabric over his head and he yelped. 

“Help,” Dream said with his head stuck as he fought the clean shirt that had been forced upon him. George helped guide his arms into the sleeves. 

Dream’s head popped out of the shirt smiling bashfully. George giggled and leaned to touch his nose with his as they had done to begin this spiral into intimacy.

“So, how’d you sneak all this stuff down here?” Dream leaned forward to get on his feet but stumbled back onto his rear. The chains rattled as he bonked his head on the wall. 

“Fuckin, ow,” Dream was still disoriented from the energy he had spent bottoming.

George laughed at Dream as he rubbed his head with his now free hands. Dream scrunched his face into a scowl but couldn't help but smile at the sound of George’s warm laugh. 

“I’ve had these things and Sam trusted me enough to get a copy of the key, just in case. And please, don’t stand up, you’re still weak. You’ll be alright in less than an hour, after all, you haven’t done this before.” Even though George was smiling at Dream’s pain his concern saturated his voice. 

“I’m going, to be honest, I could go for a nap,” Dream yawned, stretching his arms above his head and flexing his feet, absolutely at ease. George was incapable of wiping the smile off his face and watched as Dream spread himself out to sleep, hands under his head and one leg bent. He melted and decided to lay next to his prisoner. 

“C’mere you,” George jumped in surprise as Dream rolled over and wrapped his limbs around the small guard, overcome with cuddles, absolutely smothered. George impishly squirmed in protest and laughed.

George stilled and let out a breathy sigh as Dream began to drift into unconsciousness. He had been exhausted from the emotional and physical strain the day had given him. 

~

It wasn’t too long before Dream woke back up in his unconscious dreamland. The surroundings were once again surreal and foreign. He was atop a mountain, overlooking a sea of clouds and could not see the earth below. The sun was high but not hot, making the atmosphere comfortable. 

Dream thought it would be best to try hiking down to find a place to rest that was below the cloudline. As he began his descent below the clouds the rocky terrain gave way to greenery. He happened upon a lush meadow with flowers of all colours in full bloom, a soft breeze tenderly roused bees from the plants. 

Dream carefully made his way to the middle of the meadow, careful not to tread on any blossoms, and lay down in the centre. He was growing tired and rested his hands behind his head watching the clouds drift carefree. 

His cloud gazing was interrupted when someone leaned over him, hands clasped behind their back. There was no hostility in the manner of the figure so Dream stayed still, unalarmed. He let his eyes adjust to the shadow cast above him and it was George? 

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” Dream was trying to hide the childlike excitement he felt upon seeing George. 

“I was out for a stroll and saw you wandering about so I figured I would stop to say ‘ello.” George’s voice coupled with the light breeze and buzzing of the bees felt reassuring. 

George extended his hand, holding out flowers he had picked. Camellias and carnations of red, white, and pink, gypsophila, lavender, and ferns accenting the warm hues. 

“Well, I’m not opposed,” Dream remained laid back and patted the ground next to him with one hand, the other accepting the flowers. He pushed the handmade bouquet into his face, the ferns tickling his chin and closed his eyes and inhaled. The sweet scents of the flowers infected his nostrils. Even though there were accents of other scents, the lavender overpowered them, demanding to be amply fragrant. 

He let out a sigh as he opened his eyes, resting the flowers on his chest. He turned his head to see George laying next to him, beaming in the sunlight.

Dream awoke to George gently pushing on his shoulder while whispering his name. 

“What, hello,” Dream had no sense of how much time had passed. He blinked and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

  
“I’m so sorry, but I’ve got to put you back in the handcuffs, my time is almost up,” Dream could hear the ache in George’s voice as George grabbed his hands to put them back. He watched his arms be pulled above his head and locked in place. 

Dream did not protest as he was being put back into the restraints. He watched George’s focused face as he made quick work of the cuffs and anklets. The metal was cold compared to the warmth of George’s skin.

George moved away so that no one would see them laying together, and sat at the edge of the cell awaiting his leave. 

Dream had his sights resting on the brunette with his back turned and ached for his body to return to his side as he fell back into unconsciousness, still exhausted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!! figured i could give you a valentine's day treat 
> 
> feedback is always appreciated
> 
> hmu on twitter @apissablebed

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for making it this far! mwah mwah mwah!


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